An ode to a tree

Thanks to Divya Mudappa and TR Shankar Raman for remembering
which sapling I planted two decades ago! Thanks Tanaya Nair for the photo.

Out there somewhere far away, 

on a beautiful hill near a gushing stream,

stands tall an evergreen rainforest tree, 

grew from the seedling you had sown.

While a busy bird perches on it

to get a good view of its prey,

another sucks whole a juicy berry, flitters away.

Flying wonders come visiting the bright red flowers,

walking wonders march along, root to branch.

The roots speak to the soil through friendly-fungi

and the branches host socials with ornate orchids.

When it is hard to sleep at night,

and you feel you didn't change a thing,

remember that seedling-tree may one day, even become a hub-tree.

A Dueulogy

I always nap in the afternoon when home in Goa. This afternoon I woke up with the shock of knowing that Suresh Jones—a dear friend, founder of the Loris organisation, inhabitant of the 'Marlboro country' in Madanapalli, keeper of the Eastern Ghats in Chitoor district, a knowledge repository of the biodiversity around Madanapalli and Rishi valley, and above all a very kind human being—is no more. In fact that he had passed away a week ago. Recovering from this shock I realised that it is important to pen down a few words remembering him even if I am a week late. May his soul roam the Eastern Ghats which he fondly loved and took care of.

Suresh Jones in his home in Madanapalli with his cherished dog Lassy

I was in touch with him once every month at least and knew that he was unwell for a while and was visiting Bangalore for kidney dialysis. A few months passed without calling him, and I kept telling myself I need to check on him, but alas I am more than a week late.

I have fond memories of visiting him from Bangalore. I once rode up to his place from Bangalore on a bullet bike I borrowed and a few times in my car. As we would reach his home, he would lay out in excitement the wonderful plan ahead. For dinner, there would be the secret ancestral recipe of garlic-pepper pork with just five ingredients and rasam. We would bring a few beers back home towards the evening and of course an evening walk was always planned through Marlboro country, a landscape that had rocky hillocks sprinkled with shrubbery with millet and rice fields around.

The 'Marlboro country' that Suresh loved and cared for a lot

We would chat about music, nature conservation, wildlife, our dogs and other pets, and life in general and then in the night look at the sky while closing up a beautiful day. Although I have a bunch of memories of a dozen visits at least, I feel I need to think hard to come up with the details: the sightings of the yellow-throated bulbuls, visiting the caves and caverns, his long descriptions of the geological faults on the rocks, the myriad plants along the way and their scientific names, one that literally stands out is Shorea roxburghii, which is largely restricted to the Eastern Ghats.

In all, with his passing I further realise how fragile life is and how much we need to cherish what we have, acknowledging things out of our control and commiting to trying to do the things that are indeed in our control. I hope you roam the Eastern Ghats with the yellow-throated bulbuls, the lions, the four-horned antelopes and Shorea roxburghii trees Suresh. I will always remember our wonderful times together and how kind and affectionate human being you were.

The gentle giant with a heart of gold

A friends family arrives to my Goa home every year during the new year eve. We play a little music, we discuss life, we visit a Japanese restaurant for lunch, we grill some fish and vegetables for the eve, we dry some coconuts and make oil, and sometimes we exchange musical instruments. I gave Mallika my guitar for a year couple of years back, I gave Mallika and Gokul a few drum lessons and sold Gokul drums last year, and this year Mallika left her guitar for me.

Trying to play a song a day, three days back I tried the song 'Heart of Gold' by Neil Young; turned out quite nice. Shared it with a few friends on a WhatsApp group of close friends whom I have known for two decades at least and for some reason I asked them to share their music and other creative experiments too, "Life is short" I told them, with no apparent context.

The next day we hear that one of the friends in the group Ashwin is no more. Passed away in Valparai, Tamil Nadu. Most of us on that group and many other folks who have known him are in shock and disbelief. He was one of the nicest, warmest, kindest persons I know. I had met him in Mysore around 2010 and we shared some pork recipes, few beers and some field tales. I visited him at this field station from where he was monitoring and helping mitigate human-elephant conflict for years.

Photo by Ovee Thorat

As I absorb the tragedy and come to terms with life, I do realise something even more deeply what I've known and was aware for years. If you have a wish list, a desire to do something, a craving to learn something new, an old friend to catch up with who you have forgotten for a while just because life came in between, a desire to get healthier, want to try running a marathon, or anything else, do it Now! For years, I have been wanting to get back to writing and the inertia just kept it that way, but this shock has made me want to pursue everything I have been thinking I will do tomorrow, next month, next year, now.

Life is indeed short and this man with a heart of gold will always live in my memory.

 

Lows and highs—ebbs and tides—fall and rise

The sea water during high tide on a beach gushes in loudly and surprises me with how high it rises. It moves in slowly but reaches out far in and grasps as much sand and other substrate as it can and drags it back. Then, there is a lull that lasts a brief moment. Apparently, it is possible to realise this lull, to even hear the silence, before the tide turns. Within a few seconds, the low tide begins and slowly the water recedes, till the next lull and the next high tide—an infinite cycle.

My mind works in the same way, in as far as I have known. There is no way for me to find out if it works this way for others too. There is a period of a lowest-low and then slowly the rise begins. In this phase, I can usually accomplish a lot more things than I expect of myself. And for both these, I have triggers. Having lived with this cycle as long as I have been around, I have started documenting what the triggers are. For several years, I was grappling with the lows; calling them blues, depression, listlessness, lack of motivation, and other similar words. I am still dealing with them, but I am now more aware of the patterns. There are highs and lows and brief peaceful moments in between and there are triggers for the switch between the phases. As long as I am aware of this chaology, I can address, a few times avoid, and at other times even remain calm through a storm. In the chaos lies the peace within; and it is inevitable for me to embrace it.

The triggers must differ for others but a run, a long walk, some time spent gardening definitely can tip my mood from a low to high or a good one to better. Writing, definitely helps too as you possibly figure seeing this blog and its posts! In any case, being aware of each of these phases and knowing that the tide will turn for sure is immensely useful.

I look forward to writing more often on my blog this year; see you back here in a few!

Rex takes me to the sea everyday.

A legacy lives on

The first time I met Yoayella, whom I affectionately call Yoyo, was during Elrika's month-long seagrass survey around the main Andaman island. A small humble, ever-smiling, strong, and hard-working person from the Karen community from Burma. He has been working with Elrika for over a decade. After several tiring snorkeling sessions, he would still have the energy to go back into the water and spearfish. 

To see him spearfish is other-worldly! He would wear a mask, snorkel, and fins and dive down with a spear, descend and often wait behind a large rock for a shoal of fish. Snap a grouper, hook it to a line, and continue—business-as-usual. There were five of us on the boat, so two big fish or three smaller fish would be what he would target. By the time I've taken several long breaths at the surface, Yoayella is still waiting behind a rock; I was just probably breathing more just looking at him holding his breath that long! Corals with several colours, hundreds of fish, the sunlight diffusing from above to the seabed, an occasional big fish or a big shoal of small fish, and Yoayella spearfishing, all make a fascinating sight. It is a vivid memory I just need to close my eyes to recreate, no photograph needed. 

Lunch on the boat was standard; Dal, potatoes, and rice with some fish. This continued for so many days that while passing some villages, we would exchange a few fish for a local chicken. And sometimes we would have 'Nappi' a tasty fermented-shrimp-paste. Our boatman Alonthey had got Nappi and he was keen on buying brinjal/eggplant. We were confused, what connection does a brinjal have with Nappi? So, when we bought brinjals, he roasted them on the stove and mixed Nappi with onions and chillis, and it did taste divine! But I drift; back to Yoayella.

Last week, I snorkeled with him over a reef and he was accompanied by another person—his kid Kane. We went to his home at Karmatang from Mayabunder and he had a set plan for us. We were all going to 'picnic' by the beach, that is, eat a big brunch after snorkeling for a few hours beyond the Karmatang beach on the east. As we reached his home, we were offered a welcome drink; fresh coconut water, and the reception committee was Yoayella, his wife Phoolmani, his son Kane, and Kane's cousin Chintu. Yoayella has diversified his livelihood now after years of trying to get into a Government Department. He has pigs, chickens, ducks, and paddy and is planning on opening a small local groceries shop too, besides working with the Nature Conservation Foundation. After having the coconut water, he offered us bananas, which were delicious too. He announced to us his plan and brought out all the picnic food; a big bucket of rice, chicken curry, Nappi, dal, salad, and beans sabzi. All to be carried six km away to the beach. He also has a basic Maruti Van now; I say basic because the engine works and the wheels are fine; sitting behind we even got a look at one of the shock absorbers from inside the vehicle! It seems a bit tricky, but whatever works, works here in the islands.

We got to the beach and that's where I saw something which made me write this post.

As we donned our equipment, Yoayella casually took Kane to the sea wearing a mask himself and with another one for Kane. While I walked so delicately on the slippery rocks to reach the sea, Yoayella was already there in 5 feet of water with his kid hopping from one rock to another and now Kane is piggybacking over him and Yoayella is talking to him and taking short dips into the sea and getting Kane acquainted with the sea. Sometime later, he was teaching Kane how to swim as well, basically telling him everything Kane needed to know to get comfortable in the sea. Kane is about five years old and already getting familiar with this habitat that comprises a big part of their lives. I imagine he will get better at it with time, maybe he will spearfish in a few years too. Someday, I'd like to watch him from above, admiring what he's doing, much like his dad. 

Photo by Evan Nazareth

A Noble island

Imagine firstly a ten-hectare wooded parcel of land, next imagine it's an island with hardly any people living on it and very few inhabitations around the island, so in the night the sky lights up with stars brighter than the horizon. Add to that mango, jackfruit, betelnut, pepper, and coconut plantations, to name a few, and a beautiful home to stay in. Lastly, add a house at the end of a pier, only accessible by a boat, following the 2014 tsunami. That's precisely what the Noble island is—that and a lot more.

We had a day to spend at Port Blair and we asked Tanaz and Shiraz Noble if we could visit the island they own and kayak around it and they were happy to take us. What followed was a drive across half of Port Blair town to an approach point where the boat awaits to take us there. Right at the approach, things change drastically; plastic waste and rubble piled up close to the approach but as you walk the last few metres close to the waiting boat, things get serene quite immediately. There are only the sounds of the mellow waves and the view of Rhizophora and their majestic aerial roots at the edge of the Noble island; they look a bit like J R Tolkien's ents with long roots as tall feet.

Once we got to the island, Tanaz and Shiraz briefed us about the safety issues related to kayaking and how to make the paddle strokes hydrodynamic and efficient. Crossing the 10-degree channel, from Barren island to Havelock, and Rangat to Havelock are just some of Tanaz's amazing kayaking feats. Off we went for a short tour of the island.

Paddling correctly took a little while. Mahesh Sankaran was on my kayak and quite often our paddles would bump since we were not synchronised, but soon it all came together. Often, we paused to hear the enthusiastic information about how to identify and understand the different mangrove species; there were two species of Rhizophora, which are often at the mangrove front since with aerial roots they can tolerate higher tide variations than other species, a species of Avicennia found closer to the shore and Sonneratia species with snorkel roots, Ceriops with interesting 'knee roots', and Bruguiera, also with short knee roots. Often, while identifying terrestrial species, we look at the bark and leaves but with mangroves the roots themselves are a great starting point. This information will certainly change the way I view and understand a mangrove forest in the future.

After an hour or more of kayaking occasionally seeing the kingfishers, the whimbrels, the teals, and mudskippers we took a look at the house on the farm. It had solar lights, rainwater harvesting, wifi, a kitchen complete with all necessities, a large 'working' room, and a bedroom, overall, a dream home!

We spent about three hours in all in the island, and on the way out got a look at the 'water house' that is only accessible through a ferry, another basic house with a fantastic view and vibe. Someday, would love to stay there and appreciate the view, the waters, the forest, the plantations, and the island more. Until then, it is nice to know that such a 'noble' island exists! 

Do take a trip to the island to see the ents and the other plants and the birds, and experience the calm of water and the conversations with the lovely people.

Island in the Sun

My last visit to the Andamans was more than three years back. Elrika and I had gone north for a while to Mayabunder and villages around such as Webi and Karmatang. But I vividly remember the first trip ever to the Andamans in late 2016. The plane flew from Bangalore for about two hours with no captivating scenery other than a quadrillion clouds, and then the pilot announced the descent, and minutes later I saw the sea, the sand, the lagoon, and then thick-as-a-brick forests. I thought we reached the main North Andaman island, but we were right above the North Sentinel island, where the Sentinalese live; one of the rare uncontacted places in the world. The community lives there on their own with no contact with the rest of the world; no roads, no distinct cultivation patches, no visible homes, no signs of clearing, and even no visible boats! The feeling I got was unexplainable; I wondered what they grow, what they eat, how their language sounds, and in general, how their lifestyle is. A closer look through google earth does show up some walking paths, few clearings, but no signs of houses and boats.

The view that one gets from the plane as one approaches the North Sentinel island.

Last evening on a conversation with Evan in Port Blair, I got to know that the Sentinalese started using metal tips on their arrows, shifting to metal from stone following a ship-wreck in the North-west part of the island. Evan said that he had heard someone mention that the ship-wreck transformed the community from the stone age to metal age! I wonder if they do light fires for cooking or clearing land; would be fascinating to look at high resolution imagery from the island.

Back in the larger North Andaman islands, the plane descended further and got closer to the main island; few houses, many clearings, and visible signs of concrete, plastic, and metal, but the forests around still seemed thick and enveloped in fluffy-cotton clouds. When the plane landed and in the next few days, I realised what being in an island implies. Things arrive here but never go back. So, all the plastic and glass waste stays in the island, so it is even more important to be conscious of the everyday miscellaneous items we use. On that note, I wonder; the whole planet is an island too, things that we use are manufactured, but there is no other place to discard than in the planet itself. Except, then there is space debris, which we are also responsible for!

The people you meet here in the Andamans are from all over the country; its a motley blend of cultures, people, cuisines, and languages. Different people arrived here at different times brought by the British, the Indian Government, the Forest Department, as well as the army and the navy. So, it is not uncommon to catch an auto run by a Tamilian, eat food at a Chinese restaurant, buy bakery items from a Keralite-run shop, snorkel with a Karen spear-fisher, and then have dinner at a Bengali restaurant, to name just a few of the options. Hindi is a binding gel for everyone, and the Hindi language has evolved as a mix of a number of other languages; a mainlander would not have a clue about some of the words (take 'Gusul' for example!), that could have been borrowed from any part of the country and blended into a local mash of language. Its all very interesting to me.

Things got even more interesting as we went north to villages around Mayabunder. The dominant community there is the Karen. The Karen were brought over during the British time since they were experts at training elephants to harvest timber from the forests. The elephants are still here too; several herds of 'retired' elephants inhabit the islands and have turned feral. Besides elephants, there are spotted deer, barking deer, domestic cats and dogs, pigs, bull frogs, that are found in large numbers in both human-inhabited and uninhabited islands.

Tomorrow, we travel north again to Mayabunder, Webi and Karmatang. Will log in more from there.

I sit here and write this post; its difficult to sit peacefully here and not write something!

How the kombucha culture diffused into my life!

The month was March 2020 and it was late into the month. The Prime Minister had announced a lockdown to arrest the spread of Coronavirus and bolstered this effort with plate-bangings in the evenings. Places were shut and groceries were a big issue here in Candolim, Goa. Beverages were out of the question. We store a few litres of Urak (Cashew alcohol, first distil) every year which we buy from a home in Revora, North Goa where they make a good brew. Last year's supply was over and this year's stock in Revora was consumed by the locals since booze shops were shut.

The local big grocery store would open three hours in the morning and it would be super packed with people in those hours. Trolleys full of toilet papers and hand sanitizers. We, on the other hand had a specific list; a list that was topped by ingredients for dog food, since our dogs have never had a vegetarian meal in their life and have never had pedigree/processed dog food! While browsing through other ways of spicing up our own locked-down life, I came across a bottle of Borecha kombucha. The last I had of kombucha was last year in Bangalore once and before that half a decade ago in Virginia, USA. Bought a few bottles of kombucha and the drink felt very refreshing and somehow, healthy. I realised based on internet search that we could give it a go at home.

Brewed some tea and added the culture and lo and behold, there it was, the first batch, on 26th March 2020!

Since then, I've tried making mango kombucha, ginger kombucha, Zizyphus kombucha (which made the bottle explode!), mint kombucha and Darjeeling tea kombucha. They were all productive and tasty experiments! My two favorites are the Darjeeling tea one and the ginger kombucha.

I've been extremely lucky though in the times of lockdown. We could still visit the beach and have a drink of kombucha and not feel like we have not been in open places. The sea and mountains help keep up the mental health! 

Couple years later now, I am still brewing and have started selling small batches to cafes around. If you've had this drink, which my friend Mathew named Monteá, after a python that took one of our chickens in Candolim (which will be another story for another day), I hope you enjoyed the taste and this story. If not, head over to Cafe Chocolatti or Beer opener beach shack in Candolim, North Goa, when you are around in Goa.

Cheers!

PS: If you really like this drink, I suggest you make it at home, its really simple, as simple as making ice tea!

Cycling trivialities - Part IV: In the Ghats

There are some neat bike-cleaning videos out there on the internet and this particular one impressed me so much that I cleaned mine right after watching it! Just one important thing to keep in mind while washing a bike: do not jet-spray water directly onto the headset near the handlebar, the wheelhubs at the wheel-centres and the bottom bracket where the crank arm with the pedals is attached, to prevent any water from seeping in. Elrika had not watched this video, yet she intuitively bought a perfect set of brushes for the bike wash: a new toilet cleaning brush to reach the tough corners, clothes cleaning scrub for the tyres, a thin long bottle brush to reach the gaps between the spokes and the wheel, a toothbrush to clean the crank and gear-cassette, and a soft scrub to clean the frame. We also bought a bottle each of degreaser and lubricant fluid, all put together these cost upto 2000 bucks. Still, this investment was worth our bikes and the ride we were on from Hubli to Goa over the lovely Western Ghats. The evening before the trip to Castlerock from Kulgi we had cleaned the drivetrain systems of our bikes and the ride was smooth and silent.

The day had started with a sudden upslope that almost put us off our three-day cycling rhythm. But within the first 3 km, we had climbed 60 m which led us to a beautiful vista of the hills and valley that brought our enthusiasm back.

We caught our breath and the view for a while and continued the only-slightly-more-forgiving ascent for almost another dozen km. Between the 12^th and 15^th km, we dropped a 100 m and that must have been the fastest I’ve ever ridden my bike, 66.6 km per hour! Earlier on in our rides, whenever we reached a downhill we were glad but we soon figured it meant that uphills follow! As I zoomed on downhill, I side-glanced at a person lying on the side of the road with his head towards the road, but I carried on, given my momentum. Matty, however, had more empathy and paused to move the person over to the side of the road. I mentally posted a note to myself to be more kind in future to help out others, good one, Matty!

At Ganeshgudi, we passed by the beautiful Kali river where we decided to break for lunch. During lunch, we pondered if Matty should put his bike on to a car and take it ahead to Castlerock since the ride was getting a bit tiring with all the ups and downs and his ‘non-broken-in’ leather seat.  

 

We negotiated with a local who drove a Tata Indica car wondering if Matty’s supermodel Surly Ogre would fit in it. Dismantled, the large Surly frame and the wheels just fit in right enough and off Matty went! With more than a half of the ride for the day left, we continued for another 20 km and had a quick rest below a tree where a Great hornbill and a Giant squirrel were having a quick tête-à-tête with the massive Supa reservoir in the background. These are the moments that make the ride totally worth it. The Supa reservoir was sprawled across enough for us to wonder if we had already reached the sea even if the Goan sea was more than a hundred km away. 

Picture this with a foreground of a tree with a great hornbill and a giant squirrel helloing each other!

At Jagalabeta, the ride got even better; tall canopy on both sides alive with some bird activity and streams crisscrossing once in a while with little-to-no traffic. The only sad part was the number of dead snakes we saw on the road. Over a stretch of about 20 km we saw an almost equal number of dead ones. Elrika paused to move a live vine snake aside hoping it would not cross the road again. We felt that something needs to be done about this, perhaps at least a speed limit was due for that road.

We finally reached Castlerock at about 6 pm, after an elevation climb of over 1500 m and a ride of 70 odd km, and this camp too was wonderful

We had a quick shower, ordered our meals and off I went for my evening beer-forage for which I climbed another 100 m, passed through a dark tunnel without a good torch and bought beer from a home that kept alcohol unofficially since booze is not sold openly in Castlerock. Still, like other days, a lovely evening full of conversation followed which drifted on to a well-deserved deep slumber. Another wonderful day of our bike ride had passed.

Cycling trivialities – Part III: The climb begins!

There is a certain simplicity about cycling that I enjoy: a physical push applied to the pedals or a pull if one is wearing cleats causes the crank to move. Through the chain rings attached to the crank, this energy is transferred by a chain to the rear cassette and then on to the backwheel hub. This hub is attached to the wheel through ball bearings causing the wheel to move, leading to motion. There is also the issue of how much force one needs to apply to move ahead, of how more revolutions with less pressure can take you as ahead as more pressure with fewer revolutions: the gears on the cassette take on this job. Then, there is the reverse action; the simplicity of braking: the brake pads attached to the calipers on both sides of the wheels rub against the rim as you pull the brake lever, or the disc attached to the wheel rubs against rubber to slow down or stop the cycle. All so simple and so many tiny parts coming together smoothly like a Mozart’s symphony! All this was happening as I was riding my bike on the first long day of the ride from Tadas Cross to Kulgi Nature camp in Dandeli.

The roadside eatery that came highly recommended!

The morning had begun early; we were well-rested and ready for a big ride ahead. Since I had booked the Forest Department accommodation at Dandeli, we had to be prepared to ride about 90 km to reach the camp by the evening. 90 km is considered very doable by bikers, but here there was the small issue of the Western Ghats and how undulating the terrain can be! As we reached our first stop of the ride, 20 odd km away, for breakfast at Kalghatgi, we asked around a random person for directions to Kulgi. Patil loved to ask people for directions, and well it leads to better accuracy than Google maps at least! While he gave us directions he also nudged us to visit a roadside hotel for breakfast and praised the food enough for us to try it out. Turns out, it was his brother’s hotel and he was just building its reputation and business! Anyway we had a quick breakfast there to oblige him and moved on to another small hotel with tables and chairs for us to sit and chart out the plan ahead.

The 'unbroken' seat of the Surly!

The issue we had to discuss was this: from Kalghatgi to Kulgi there were two routes: one a scenic one that was 70 odd km but up-and-down and another 55 km on a relatively plain State highway. Matty who brought his supermodel Surly had an issue with its seat. The seat was a brand new leather one and had not ‘broken in’, read ‘ridden on enough to make it comfortable for long rides’. Here, they mention longer definitions of ‘breaking in’, but in general, leather saddles take hundreds of miles to soften up and confirm to your anatomy. We decided that the seat had not yet conformed to Matty’s anatomy and its best if he takes the straight 55 km highwayish road and the rest of us will take the undulating route. 

The stream where we got pedicure and Patil a power nap

The initial part of the ride was a contrasting one: it was the national highway 52 with good forest on both sides. While we did enjoy it, the sound of a truck, a bus a taxi would bring us zooming back to the mundane sounds of a city. Till we reached the deviation to state highway 93, where things took a steep turn, literally, into even more beautiful forests with hardly any traffic. This was when the trip actually began; verdant forests, an occasional bird call, intermittent rural landscapes, tiny shacks to eat; one in a dozen km, streams criss-crossing once in a while and big trees waving with the wind with bigger shadows on the road, we were finally home! At the 70^th km, we decided to take a nap by a stream and took our bikes down and rested our feet in the water. A few, perhaps Barilius, fish came to nip on our feet and it calmed and relaxed us more. We were back on the road in less than 30 minutes because we had to get to the Kulgi Nature camp where Matty may have reached earlier than us. 

The trail Matty was on led to a pond!

About that: we reached Bhagavati where his route will overlap ours, so I gave him a call there just to check if Matty reached Kulgi, he was still here and had a bit of a mishap. Someone on the way suggested a shorter route and he had walked several km with his bike on a route that led him to a pond! He was completely exhausted when we met him, but at least we were glad to be reunited again and continued the last 20 km together.

These were the first of the ups-and-downs of the Western Ghats and we were famished by the time we reached the Nature Camp and we had covered over a 100 km in the day. Having lived in a range of Forest Department Guest houses as a wildlife biologist, I was expecting basically a camping tent to stay. But the Kulgi Nature camp was incredible; it was a permanently setup tent, almost like the ones they would call ‘glamping’ now, there was a clean bathroom, running water and electricity and beds with mattresses! 

 

First, we got our bike cleaning kits out and degreased, cleaned and lubricated our bike’s drive-train systems. Then we cleaned ourselves and clothes and then of course, it was time for a beer. The logistics here were a bit more complicated. It had already got dark, so setting out for another 20 km ride on the bike to Dandeli town was not practical, we paid the local staff to pay someone else to get it for us. It took way longer than the bike ride and by the time the beer was here, we gulped it down and had a sumptuous meal made by two Gujarati women who had settled in this part of Karnataka decades ago and had a language that was a mix of Kannada, Marathi and Gujarati; a creole in itself, since I usually tend to understand these separately and could not figure anything they were chatting about! 

After that we slept like we 'sold our horses'! Next day was a ride to Castlerock, a place I was very excited to go since I had only seen the station from the train on the Goa-Bangalore route close to Doodhsagar and the forests around, full-of-cane, are a treat for the eyes; also, something very curious about the name of the place too! It was going to be a ride of only 60 odd km but very undulating; the cleats on my shoe-soles are going to help me pull up the pedals on the upslopes!

Cycling trivialities - Part II: A ride in the plains

Cycling often brings back childhood memories; growing up three decades or so ago, I used to take money from parents and rent bicycles for 5 bucks an hour or even less and ride all day; fell so many times but the wheels kept spinning. Then one day my parents succumbed to my demand and bought me a Hero Ranger bike, life changed after that. I often went to school on it and even remember a day when a traffic cop deflated my tyre because I skipped a light! He had a wicked sense of humour too, he asked me to return the next day to get the air back! The next bike my folks bought for me was a BSA SLR, what a wonderful bike it was, it felt way more mature than the Hero Ranger. I once took apart everything from the bike except the brakes and it used to fly! In the year 2010, I bought the first bike with my own money on my 30^th birthday: a white Btwin Rockrider 5.2; it was love at first ride – the bike I was planning to ride to Goa. And I had forgotten to carry the meticulously-packed two 15 litre panniers outside my home in Bangalore while packing the rest of the stuff into Matty’s car!

Panniers that I forgot!

I realise now that I haven't introduced Matty earlier. I knew Matty from the time when I worked in Greenpeace, way back in 2002. In the last two decades, we’ve had some wonderful times trekking, travelling and conversing about almost everything under the sun. Since then, Matty has worked in quite a few jobs and presently works at Decathlon. In his own words, he is an ‘occasional cyclist but a full time cycling evangelist!’, in mine, a perfect partner in ride. Leaving from the Coffee day in Davengere, Elrika and Matty could not help laughing at me every couple minutes and I was laughing myself too, although I ought to have been more shocked at my stupidity! But my mind was buzzing with solutions for this problem and so was Elrika’s. Quickly, Elrika and I made a basic list of things to buy from Hubli-Decathlon, things that will come in handy after this trip too and are also affordable. And this turned out to be the real list that one needs for a long ride: 4 ₹100 T-shirts, 4 inner wear, 2 cycling shorts, 2 sleeping shorts, 3 socks, 1 towel ('never leave home without a towel', a great man said once!), 1 big bag or two small pannier bags or one dry bag, battery bank (to charge the phone since the app Strava that records the trip drains the phone battery) & Balaclava (the single most useful thing when its cold, dusty, sunny or smoky on the way). 

Our own Mohammad, the long-distance cyclist!

We reached Hubli only by lunch time – the plan was to cycle from Hubli to the Tibetan colony at Mundgod the first day and stay there; a distance of about 50 km which would take us 3 hours at least. Going to the Tibetan colony would be like a prayer of sorts before the long ride, we thought. As we drove into the Decathlon store, we met our own Mohammad; the fourth member, Narendra Patil (who we affectionately call Patil) accompanying us for this ride. He has cycled over 3000 km in the last three years and has already cycled 500 km this year. The first time I met Patil was in the beautiful Tadoba-Andhari Tiger Reserve almost two decades back when I volunteered with the Centre for Wildlife Studies for a week.

Mathew getting his super-model Surly ready!

Next, I met him next in 2014 in Bomdo, my PhD field site in Arunachal Pradesh and we had some spirited good times exchanging stories by the fireplace in my field station and doing field work for a couple of weeks. Keeping up with the tradition of meeting only during good times, this time I was meeting him ahead of a five-day cycling trip to Goa. He had brought his bike from Bagalkot to Hubli in a train which wasn’t a great experience since he had to wait for most of the journey along with the bike near the entrance so people could enter and exit. But anyway, he was here now and it was time to quickly assemble the bikes together, get them checked by the trusty Decathlon bike experts and buy the items listed earlier.

Panniers that I carried!

Elrika and I picked up all the stuff I needed in just about thirty minutes and one of the Decathlon folks mentioned to us that there were panniers of the old model they were trying to sell off at a big discount and for just 800 bucks I got my other pair of panniers, which Elrika can use for the next ride. They are just the perfect size to go to work in a city too. All the bikes checked, all the luggage packed, we thanked the Decathlon folks who helped us a lot and we took off into the bustling city of Hubli, trying to get out of it as soon as possible. The ride was on a road on rolling hills which was perfect to prep us up for the big hills coming up the next day. By the time we reached Tadas Cross though, it turned dark and Mundgod was still 26 km away. We took a quick decision to stay put and booked a room there to get a good meal and a rest and do the extra 26 km in the morning to reach Kulgi Nature camp, 90 odd km away, where I had make the booking for the first night. As we settled in, we realised how good the decision was. They allowed us to keep our bikes beside our beds, there was hot water for a bath and Patil and I made a quick trip to a bar 4 km away in the dark to get a can of beer each. We felt quite relaxed after the beer, we made a short trip to the neighbouring dhaba and had some nice rotis and curry and were off to bed early. The real trip is yet to begin!

A big thanks to Suraj and others at Decathlon- Hubli!